


Tumblr Request: Cute Madasaku from the Perspective of Random People in the Airport/Plane

by moor



Series: Tumblr request [35]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Bamf au, F/M, Modern AU, Tumblr request, airport hell AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-22 08:48:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16594697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moor/pseuds/moor
Summary: katabarico asked: Cute Madasaku from the Perspective of Random People in the Airport/Plane





	Tumblr Request: Cute Madasaku from the Perspective of Random People in the Airport/Plane

**Author's Note:**

  * For [katabarico](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=katabarico).



> Thank you for the prompt, katabarico!

The cashier smiled politely at the pink-haired woman—Sakura, according to her credit card—as she purchased a neck pillow from the kiosk in the airport terminal. The pillow was made of the softest, plushest material they carried, its red-and-white circle print repeating in geometric patterns that made it quite unique.

“They’re a lifesaver,” he commented as she put away her wallet.

“I know. I usually remember to pack one, but I was in a bit of a rush yesterday and forgot,” she admitted.  
  
Knowing his break was coming up soon, he considered Sakura. She was confident, easy-going. Maybe she could use an escort to her gate?

“Hey, I’m not sure if you’re interested, but I’m due for my break soon. Would you like any company? I know where the best sandwich shops are—”

“She isn’t interested.”

The sudden bleak, spine-tingling shadow that fell across the cashier’s point of sale terminal was ominous. The situation was made even more sinister by the way the entire store was indoors with evenly placed lighting that was designed specifically to prevent shadows from being cast, which immediately made the cashier realize that the stranger now shooting his imperial, unimpressed, intimidating glare across his lowly till was in fact a demon summoned to earth to dispose of his soon-to-be-dead corpse.

“Oh, there you are. I thought you would be in the bathroom longer. Look, I found a nice pillow for you so you don’t get a crick in your neck and snore this time,” said Sakura, holding up the pillow. “Is your tummy feeling better?”

“… my tummy is fine.”

Sakura kept looking at the man-demon.

“The pillow is very nice, thank you,” he grit out.

Sakura beamed at him, then turned to the wet-trousered cashier. “Thank you for your help.”

Sliding her arm through the demon’s, she ushered him out, pillow in hand.

* * *

“Would you like to rest?” asked Madara an hour later, noting the lines under his wife’s eyes.

“I’m fine,” she said, smiling up at him. “Though perhaps some supper? We still have several hours before our flight boards.”

Madara’s eyes narrowed as he looked over his tired wife. He hated the fact they had such a long layover, but the weather was one of the few things he could not control.

“What would you like?”

“Something light,” she said, grimacing and touching her stomach.

Paling, Madara nodded.

They made their way to a row of cafés, each one offering differently packaged versions of the same baked goods and pre-packaged sandwiches.

His teeth clenched, Madara glared at them, trying to vaporize them, or at least transform them miraculously into something his wife would eat.

“Just the bread is fine,” said Sakura, yawning.

Madara nodded.

“I’ll take all the sandwiches,” he said, walking up to the cashier and handing her a wad of bills.

Then he placed another wad on the counter. “This is for you to wash your hands and dump the contents in the garbage. I only need the bread.”

“Sorry, sir, I don’t—”

“Do it or else.”

Looking up from her point of sale terminal, the woman swallowed at the promise of death in her customer’s eyes.

“If you can just give me a second to call someone up to take my place…”

A few minutes later, Madara was carefully offering his wife neatly—exceptionally neatly—repurposed sandwich bread and buns as they sat together on a bench in the airport terminal.

* * *

“Another delay?”

Sakura was tempted to sag against her husband’s back. She enjoyed travelling with him, but this day had been excruciatingly long.  
  
“If a delay of this extent was expected, we should have been provided with accommodations,” seethed Madara, looming over the counter of their departure gate. “Hours ago.”

“Unfortunately,” droned on the unaffected agent, “we’re required to follow the guidelines set out by our parent company—”

“Get us a room immediately, along with transportation for our things,” snapped Madara, feeling Sakura leaning against his side. She was exhausted.

“How long is this delay?” he demanded. He held out his hand when he felt Sakura reaching for it. Instinctively he pulled her closer to him, wrapping his arm around her strong, petite shoulders.

“Only four hours,” said the agent. “And as we do not provide accommodations or alternate transportation for delays of less than 12 hours—”

“We’ve been here over 16 hours due to the delays for this flight!” yelled Madara, even as Sakura squeezed his hand.

“No, this  _individual_ delay is expected to last four hours,” repeated the agent.

His shoulders rising, Madara felt resistance as he lifted his arm to reach across the counter and grab the agent—Sakura held fast.

He looked down at her with angry, frustrated eyes, only to find her gazing up at him tiredly.

“Will we be notified by text of further updates?” asked Madara.

“No, all updates are provided by the company website, though you are welcome to refresh your feed as often as you’d like.”

“Let’s go find a place to sit,” said Sakura, dragging her husband away from the agent who had signed his own death warrant.

* * *

With his sleeping wife cradled in his lap, Madara flicked refresh on the screen of his phone for the enth time.

Why were the gods against them in their hour of need?

Tucking his phone into his pocket, he adjusted Sakura slightly and leaned his head back against the wall he sat against. Then he closed his eyes, holding Sakura close.

* * *

“We missed the flight?” Sakura’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“Yes, and it was just a second ago they closed the gates,” said the agent with fake apology. “As you weren’t here, you forfeited your seats. Unfortunately, if a passenger doesn’t show for the rescheduled flight, we’re unable to offer any form of compensation— _gck!_ ”

“Now you listen here,” growled Sakura, her small fist clamped tighter than a vise around the agent’s scrawny neck. “You’re going to open those doors and we’re getting our first class seats, is that clear?”

“C-can’t, already pre-flight c-check,” the weasel gasped.

“Open the doors or I’ll shove you so deep into that jet exhaust that you’ll be incinerated down to every last speck of your loathsome, shitty DNA,” said Sakura in a clear, low voice. “And when you’re gone  _I’ll go meet you in Hell and do it again.”_

The whites of the agent’s eyes filled Sakura’s vision, and she saw him nod desperately and grab for the communication radio pinned to his shirt.

“Two-two more for you,” he gasped into his mic. “First class. Uchiha,” he choked, still trying to draw in air.

Sakura lifted her chin.

“Seated together.” The agent added, and Sakura nodded.

“Thank you very much,” said Sakura as her husband took her hand in his and lifted it to his lips.

“N-no problem,” said the agent.

* * *

As they took their seats in first class, Sakura turned to find her husband watching her adoringly.

“You’re amazing, Dr. Uchiha,” he said, smiling at her like a fool.

Sakura, still high on her anger yet burning out quickly from the adrenaline, gave him a mildly embarrassed look.

“Hormones,” she said.

“Mmmmm,” agreed her husband, pulling her into his lap again and wrapping his arms around her. He rested his hands on the slightest bump of her belly. “I love them. Do it again at the next stop.”

Sakura laughed and curled into her husband, her second in command.

“Don’t tell the others,” she sighed.

“They’ll be thrilled to hear their beloved  _onna-oyabun_  lowered herself to strangle a lowly airport clerk with her bare hands. He should be grateful. It’s a privilege few receive.”

“Down boy,” said Sakura, closing her eyes.   
  
Around her shoulders her husband wrapped a warm blanket. By the time the plane took off, she was fast asleep.

Madara closed his eyes and held her close.  
  
 **THE END**


End file.
